


The Rest Is Silence

by 60mphofdad



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Dysphoria, Everybody's Still Gay Don't Worry, Gen, OCs only - Freeform, Original Character Death(s), Physical and Mental Abuse, Seriously Just Original Characters, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Transphobia, Violence, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60mphofdad/pseuds/60mphofdad
Summary: (There's a lot of unexplored territory in the Puella Magi universe. This is just another side story.)Makoto Saitou is a boy. However, no one else in his life believes him. When the constant dismissal and denial of his true self gets to be too much, Makoto feels he has no choice but to end it all. Before he can, he meets a little white creature with red eyes. A creature that offers him a way out, something too good to be true.All he has to do is make a wish.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Rest Is Silence

Every day was a grueling trek through a forest of needles.  
  
“Here’s your purchase, miss!” _Prick._  
“Miss Saitou, please read from page two-four-eight." _Prick._  
“Makoto-chan, you’re so cute, please be my girlfriend!” _Prick._  
“She -”  
“Miss -”  
“Her -”  
_Prick. Prick. Prick._  
___________________________________  


Makoto ran as a punishment.  
  
It was not a conscious decision; the urge had simply taken him one day after school and he had begun to jog. He hadn't gone straight home, but instead took a meandering path around an office block and a park, speeding up at every crosswalk. By the time he was heading home, he was sprinting, the wind a cold knife on his cheeks and his lungs burning. Despite the pain, the sharp stitch in his side, he took the stairs two at a time, all the way up to the third floor where he and his father shared a tiny apartment. He entered on shaky legs, passed the dirty living room where his father held court in front of an ancient television, and collapsed on his bed without taking off his shoes.  
  
Though he was stiff and achy the next day, it was like a revelation. If he was running, panting, muscles burning until he simply couldn't stand it any more, he couldn't think about anything else. Not about the way his classmates tittered behind their hands at his refusal to wear skirts, even on days it was required, how he persisted in asking to join the boys for P.E., how he flinched and snapped and sulked when someone called him a girl. Running took his mind off it; he did not realize that it was also a kind of torture, a punishment that his body was not the one he wanted. And so, he ran.  
  
His stamina improved. Makoto trained himself, brutally, ruthlessly, to run for hours. He was not fast, and might never be, but he was persistent. His P.E. teacher noticed his improved times and offered him a spot in the track club, but Makoto refused. Running was a private thing. He began to dream that he was running forever, down a road that did not change no matter how fast he went, until he realized that he was on a wheel, going nowhere. The dream became a nightmare, but Makoto could not stop.  
  
___________________________________  


The sun was setting in dark orange and pink, reflected in the slow current of the river that flowed out to the sea. Makoto was in the middle of a run, but the scene had stopped him short. The bridge was a smear of blue metal, his face no more than a pale blur in the water’s reflection. Less than six inches of water covered the concrete basin. The drop from the bridge was more than twenty feet. He stared down into the ravine, wondering if he would die on impact or drown with his limbs broken around him. Mechanically, while the sky slowly darkened and the street lights flickered on, Makoto climbed the railing and balanced on its round surface.  
  
“Oh good, you’re still here.”  
  
Makoto flinched at the voice and lost his balance. Fortunately - or unfortunately - he fell backwards, landing hard on the sidewalk. Distantly, he thought he might be sore for a day or two. Something small and white moved briskly toward him, with red eyes that gleamed.  
  
“What…? Who’s there?” Gingerly Makoto got back to his feet and glanced around. He was sure he’d been alone.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The small white thing jumped lightly up onto the bridge railing and Makoto stepped back from it automatically. It was...a cat? A rabbit? It didn’t seem to have a collar. “You’re Makoto Saitou, right?”  
  
Makoto said nothing, but blinked once and held his palms up to his eyes. A little red, a little scraped, but solid. “Am I dying? Is this a dream?”  
  
“It’s no dream,” the cat-rabbit said, its voice perky and almost childish in its tone. “My name is Kyubey, and I’ve been looking for you. I have a favor to ask.”  
  
“I don’t have any carrots.” His face was turning red. He could feel it flush up his neck and across his cheeks. The words simply tumbled out and he could not stop them.  
  
Kyubey shook its head and its strange long ears moved gently. They looked quite soft. “No, it’s nothing like that.” Though it had very little to suggest it, Makoto thought the creature was smiling. “I’d like to ask you to make a contract with me and become a magical girl!”  
  
_Prick._  
  
“I’m not a girl!” Makoto’s voice broke when he shouted, becoming something like a squeal. He hated it, the way his body would betray him like that. Hot tears crowded his eyes and threatened to spill, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “I’m not a girl,” he repeated softly, “but no one believes me.”  
  
There was no question - Kyubey practically trembled with excitement. “Then I have a solution! If you make a contract with me, I’ll grant you a wish. Any wish you want.”  
  
Makoto frowned and crossed his arms. “What’s the catch?”  
  
“I’ll need you to fight Witches. They’re the source of wickedness and sorrow in the world, and magical girls - or, not-girls,” Kyubey corrected impishly, “are able to fight and slay Witches. You would be the light fighting against the dark.” The little creature sounded proud, as though it had sired all these magic heroes personally. Makoto supposed that if it was telling the truth, it might as well have.  
  
“And you can...change my body? Like, to a boy?” It sounded absurd. The surgeries were complex and expensive, and not always performed by reliable doctors. Yet this thing - this Kyubey - made it sound like it would take no more effort than buying a can of soda.  
  
“Absolutely!” Its tail wiggled as it spoke and Makoto wondered if it wasn’t also part squirrel. “It would look completely natural, because it would _be_ completely natural. I guarantee it.”  
  
_It’s just a wish. The worst thing that can happen is nothing happens._  
  
Makoto chewed his lip and nodded at last. “Okay. I’ll make a contract.”  


___________________________________  
  
The pain was unexpected.  
  
Kyubey had not mentioned that the process included sharp and glassy pain, a white-hot burn in the center of his chest. Afterward, Makoto understood that if he had known going in that it would be painful, he might have had second thoughts. Maybe.  
  
Because the other unexpected feeling was _pure, unbridled joy_.  
  
His breasts were gone. They had been growing quickly since he turned fourteen, were often tender, and more than once Makoto had found they drew attention he had never wanted. Now his chest was flat, with a few short, dark hairs poking out. No more huddling to himself on the train! No more sports bras or tape or bandages!  
  
It would be far more conspicuous - not to mention entirely inappropriate - to check what _other_ changes had occurred, but something was definitely there that had not been before. That was something he could explore later, if he could get up the nerve.  
  
Makoto blushed at his own thoughts, but the giddiness that accompanied the transformation would not allow embarrassment to dampen his spirit. He felt sturdier, more energized. Lighter, faster, stronger. It was intoxicating. While Kyubey watched, silent on his perch with a stuffed animal's smile, Makoto raced from one end of the bridge to the other, daring his shadow to keep up. Night had fallen as he made his wish and the street lights glowed with a new brightness. The air itself seemed to shimmer. Life was full of possibilities, if only he would reach out his hand and take them.  
  
Something was gleaming in his fist, spreading a lovely green light. Makoto slowed to a stop not far from where Kyubey sat. He wasn't even out of breath, but he leaned heavily on the railing anyway. He slowly opened his fingers, revealing a gem like an egg in a gold setting. It was brilliantly green, the color of grass after a summer storm. Its glow pulsed with the beat of his heart, rapid at first, and slowing as he rested. Kyubey closed the distance between them and pointed with one of its tiny white paws.  
  
"This is your Soul Gem. It's the source of your magic."  
  
"It's beautiful. Is this the color of my soul?" He raised the gem to eye level, marveling in its rich color. "What kind of magic do I have?"  
  
"Why don't you find out? Concentrate on transforming." Makoto hesitated and Kyubey waved a paw towards the middle of the bridge. "Don't worry. I'll tell you if anyone's coming."  
  
With his new Soul Gem carefully closed in his hand once more, Makoto shuffled to center line. It was full dark now, the city glittering with lights, and the street lamp made a halo around him as he shut his eyes and concentrated.  
  
There was a flash, then another, the same grassy color as his Soul Gem, and Makoto could swear he almost heard music. An urge possessed him to move, almost to dance, and he let his new body do as it would. Then the light ended, the music faded, and Makoto was standing still again. He still had not opened his eyes; he was afraid to, suddenly certain that the whole experience had been a dream and he would wake up again in his original, feminine body.  
  
But curiosity won out in the end. Makoto opened his eyes and saw at once that his clothing had changed. He wore what he could only think of as 'breeches', their color a creamy beige, a loose shirt the color of dark wood and embroidered with golden thread, and a coat he had seen once in a documentary about 18th century France. The coat's color matched his Soul Gem and seemed almost to shimmer like a field of grass as he moved. His old shoes had changed as well - to calf-high boots in the woody color of his shirt, with a thick sole and a low heel. There was something on his head as well - he gingerly removed it, finding a tri-corner hat, also green, with a white, lacy frill perched jauntily to one side. Pinned to the frill was a brooch, a rectangular emerald gem in a gold setting that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.  
  
"Wow," Makoto whispered. He placed the hat back on his dark hair, and found that it stayed put regardless of how he moved. Encouraged by the display of magic that had changed his grubby street-wear into such princely attire, Makoto raised his hand and summoned whatever magic he had attained.  
  
A mannequin, its face blank and hands no more than flat paddles, stood at attention.  
  
"That's quite interesting," Kyubey commented from the railing. It was difficult to tell if it was being sincere. Regardless, Makoto nodded. The mannequin resembled an anatomical figure, one that they used in art class for figure drawing, except it was fully six feet tall. Makoto glanced to his hand, still upraised, and wiggled his fingers experimentally. The mannequin moved, clicking as it did, and saluted him. He wiggled again and it posed, hands over its head like a ballerina.  
  
_What will Dad say?_ Makoto dropped his hand and the mannequin vanished. Kyubey tilted its head at him.  
  
"Is something wrong? Your wish was granted."  
  
"It's..." Makoto hesitated. Somehow, it didn't seem right to tell Kyubey of his problems at home. If Kyubey had helped as many girls ( _and not-girls_ , the impish voice added) as it said, there was probably very little it couldn't figure out on its own. He decided at last on, "It's personal," and straightened up again. "I'll deal with it."  
  
"You should get some rest, Makoto Saitou. Tomorrow you'll start hunting Witches."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no right or wrong way to be trans, so if anyone wants to yell at me for unrealistic dysphoria or whatever, please know that I am also trans and I'm basing Makoto's state of mind off personal experience. :)  
> (Or, at least as much personal experience as I have. If I'm magic, I don't know it.)


End file.
